“I’m okay,” she said, a little shakily.
Somehow, the memory Amber had seen wasn’t just Zelda’s. It had also been the memory of the house Zelda had grown up in—the house that had spoken to Amber forty-nine years later. Perhaps that magic lived on—the confused magic from that neighborhood—in the Talk-Up Doll Zelda held, and had mingled with Zelda’s energy when Amber had touched her.
“Do you see now that anything more done to the ley lines could cause untold effects?” Zelda asked. Amber and Edgar both turned toward the woman. “What if another blast to the ley lines causes them to splinter even more? Six corrupted spots is six too many, if you ask me. It’s too risky. They don’t erupt on a schedule. Anyone living near one of the splintered locations is at risk of the next ‘big one’ that unleashes a lethal dose of corrupted magic.”
Amber held up her hands in innocence again. “I have no plans to disrupt the ley lines any further.”
“And I’m not strong enough to, apparently,” Edgar said. “I tried to tap into the ley lines to save Amber from getting tossed around again, but I couldn’t do it.”
They were all silent for a moment.
“There just has to be a better option than rewriting history,” Amber said, more to herself than Edgar and Zelda. “Because even if the curse happened differently than how most witches think, the reality is, Penhallows were a threat back then. The council went to extreme measures to stop them, but only because the Penhallows needed to be stopped. Even if the Penhallows offer a compelling argument about how they’d been mistreated on a massive scale by the council—and even how magic itself had been mistreated—the fact remains that the Penhallows are still a very dangerous family.”
Zelda stood now. “I agree that they can’t get their hands on the Henbane book. Is it safe?”
At the same time that Edgar sharply said, “Yes,” Amber said, “For now. We’re looking for suitable alternatives.”
“If I can be of any help—any help at all—just let me know,” Zelda said. “It would be an honor to assist you.”
“Thank you,” Amber said.
The noise-cancelling spell broke and the invisible walls of the snow globe disappeared. The sounds of the garden rushed back in.
The trio made their way across the cobblestone pathway and stopped on the garden’s main path.
“Until we meet again,” Zelda said, hand out to Edgar.
He shook it, though he still had a protective air about him, as if over the course of this conversation, he’d never come to fully trust Zelda.
Then the woman turned to Amber. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Amber.” When Zelda shook Amber’s hand, she held it for a few long seconds, then patted the back of it affectionately.
“Thank you for making the trip out to see me.”
“Of course, dear,” Zelda said. “And thank you for the doll. I never thought I’d see her again.”
“I’ll miss that thing,” Edgar said sadly.
With a small wave, Zelda headed down the path.
After a moment, Amber and Edgar wordlessly headed back the way they’d come, in the opposite direction of where Zelda walked.
They’d just climbed into Edgar’s truck when Amber’s phone rang. Alan Peterson’s name popped up on the screen.
“That the PI?”
“Yeah,” Amber said. “I’m putting it on speaker, okay? Don’t say anything mean!”
Edgar mumbled something that sounded like, “I’m not mean. I just hate 90% of the population.”
Amber accepted the call. “Hey, Alan.”
“Ann Marie called me,” he said. “She … she’s actually interested.”
“Glad to hear it!”
He cleared his throat. “I uh … thanks for that.”
“No problem,” she said. “Up to you not to scare her off, though.”
He chuckled, but it sounded strained. “So, anyway, Joseph Cooper is a Marbleglen farmer. He owns a two-hundred-acre peppermint farm in the northeast part of town, near Lake Myrtle. My preliminary search turned up multiple complaints filed by Mr. Cooper against the Marbleglen police force at large, citing harassment claims. Nothing has come out of the complaints as far as I can tell.”
“What kind of harassment?” Amber asked.
“Haven’t gotten that far yet,” Alan said. “I just wanted to let you know that I’d gotten started. And … uh …”
He went silent for so long Amber double-checked her screen to make sure the call hadn’t dropped. “Hello?” she asked.
“Yeah. Um. Do you know if Ann Marie likes flowers? Women like flowers, don’t they?”
Amber was deeply enjoying that Alan Peterson wasn’t nearly as unshakable as he always seemed. “Depends on the woman. But Kim and Ann Marie are very similar, and I know Kim loves flowers, so I’m going to go with yes?”
“Kim likes flowers?” Edgar asked. When Amber looked over at him, she found his eyes were quite wide, as if he couldn’t believe he’d said such a thing out loud.
“Okay. Flowers,” Alan said. “I can do flowers. And she said she likes Italian food, so I’ll have to find an Italian restaurant.”
Yes, Captain Obvious, she wanted to say, but kept her mouth shut.
“Okay. Flowers. Pasta. I got this,” Alan said, more to himself, it seemed, than to Amber. “I’ll let you know when I’ve found out more.”
The call cut off and Amber dropped the phone into her purse. “So, my dear cousin, why did you seem so interested in the fact that Kim likes flowers?”
Edgar’s face reddened. “Why do you need information on a peppermint farmer?”
Amber decided to let him off the hook. “I’m not sure yet, but the peppermint farmer is tied to Chief Jameson’s murder somehow.”
“How’s Simon doing, by the way?” Edgar asked. “Isn’t he who got you pulled into this thing in the first place?”
Amber ran through the details, from the arraignment to Simon asking Amber to unearth his hidden memories.
Edgar whistled. “It was really risky of him to spell a judge in front of all those people.”
“Chief Daniels was so ticked off,” Amber said, remembering how the man had slammed his way out of the arraignment viewing room. “I just wish I knew what the connection was between Daniels, Jameson, and Cooper.”
“Why don’t we go find out?” he asked.
She cocked her head at him. “How?”
“Do you have your Marbleglen map on you?”
“Yes,” she said slowly. It had been in her purse ever since Kim and Amber had to track down a drunken Bianca Pace.
“What do you think about giving it another spin? We’re already in Marbleglen; let’s pay this Joseph Cooper guy a visit.”
“That would mean you’d have to interact with yet another person today,” Amber said.
“True. But, I don’t know, a peppermint farmer sounds kind of interesting,” Edgar said, shrugging.
“The chief would lose his mind if I started snooping around without him,” Amber said.
“Eh. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Edgar said.
Amber wasn’t sure she agreed with that logic, but her curiosity had already been piqued and she fished out the map.
Mint To Be Peppermint Farm, according to the signs, was a mere ten miles from Lake Myrtle, the landmark location for flower enthusiasts who wanted to visit the spot where the famed “marbled” rhododendrons grew in the wild. Amber had yet to see it for herself, but thought it would be a nice place to take Aunt G next month.
After driving down Basil Road for a few minutes, Edgar reached the wrought iron gate for the farm, which stood open. Edgar drove through. There was a stretch of empty fields for a short while that sat on either side of the dirt road. And then suddenly there were rows and rows of green, leafy foot-high plants. They drove for several minutes before an old farmhouse and nearby barn appeared in the distance.
According to the map, Joseph Cooper was on the property, though not currently in the house.
There didn’t appear to be a small shop or guest services anywhere on the farm, so Amber guessed it wasn’t the type of place where random locals stopped by very often.
Edgar pulled up in front of the white farmhouse’s wraparound porch. A snoozing brown dog lay on the top step of the porch. Its tail thumped against the wood in greeting when Amber and Edgar got out of the car, but the dog made no move to get up.
The black dot marking Joseph Cooper’s location was somewhere in between the house and the barn. Amber and Edgar headed that way.
The sound of clucking reached Amber before the sight of an elaborate chicken coop area did. The fenced-off area featured four large herb boxes in the front space, which was currently also occupied by a dozen chickens clucking, pecking, and scratching at the ground. A gate toward the back space stood ajar, where there were half a dozen chicken coops. Joseph Cooper was back there; Amber periodically saw his salt-and-pepper head as he busied himself with cleaning out the coop.
The chicken resort, as Amber liked to think of it, had a closed screen door. At the risk of the chickens running free, Amber and Edgar stayed outside of it, and Amber called out, “Excuse me? Mr. Cooper?”
A middle-aged man in a button-up flannel shirt and worn, dirty jeans walked to the ajar gate of the chickens’ area, then slowly made his way across the main part of the resort. The chickens shuffled out of his way. He pulled off his gloves and shoved them in the back pocket of his jeans. “Can I help you?”
“Hi,” Amber said, and let loose the elaborate lie she’d been working on during the drive over. “I’m on the Here and Meow Committee from Edgehill, and we’re currently putting together thank-you baskets for our top donors. I was thinking some peppermints from a local farm would be a wonderful addition, and as a bonus to you—”
“I’m going to stop you right there,” he said.
Amber assumed he’d say something along the lines of “there might be a truce between our towns for the time being because of the overlapping festivals, but I’m not interested in working with the likes of you,” but instead he said, “I’m out of product.”
“Business must be really booming,” Edgar said, plastering on a bright smile.
“Actually over half of my supply of peppermint oil was destroyed a couple weeks ago,” Joe said. “Someone opened the bungs on my 55-gallon tanks, poured in rust oxide—rust is the worst thing that can happen to peppermint—gave it a good stir, then left them open to the elements. Half a year’s worth of income gone—” he snapped his fingers, “just like that.”
Amber flinched. “I heard about that. It happened during the crime spree, right?”
“Spree seemed like a media overreaction, but yes.” Joe gave Amber and Edgar an up and down scan, assessing them, then focused his attention on Edgar. “I figured all this was old news by now. You with the Here and Meow too? Or are you with the Herald? I ran that Molly lady out of here; I’m not interested in an article that’s going to bring any more attention to my farm. It’ll be a miracle if we survive this year financially. I just wanna keep my head down. I don’t want any more trouble. So if you’re looking for a story, go somewhere else.”
Amber held up a hand. “We’re not reporters. We’re here on behalf of our friend Bianca Pace, though she doesn’t know that yet.”
Joe wrinkled his nose as if he smelled something rancid. “I didn’t think Bianca had many friends. Dang shame what’s happening to her father, though.”
“Dang shame” was far different than “It’s the quiet ones you have to be leery of, right?”
Edgar spoke up. “You don’t think Simon’s guilty?”
“Given who all was rumored to be at that dinner? Chief Jameson was a piece of work, but …” Joe shook his head. “That whole group is rotten. Any one of them could have done it.”
“Can I ask you something a little more personal?” Amber asked. Joe looked dubious but nodded anyway. “I heard you’ve made quite a few complaints about the department harassing you. Can I ask what about?”
Joe ran his teeth back and forth across his bottom lip as he stared at her. “I don’t want trouble.”
“We don’t either,” Amber said. “But the evidence stacking against Simon keeps growing. Any little bit of information you could pass on might help him get the charges dropped.”
Joe sighed. “I can’t talk about this too much because it’s an ongoing case, and I don’t want to say or do something that screws that up, but the best I can do is to tell you to look into Stone Gate Farms. My problems started there.”
“Got it,” Amber said. “Thank you for talking to us.”
“Terrible that someone did that to your peppermint oil supply,” Edgar said, frowning.
Joe sighed. “Thanks. It was devastating, but all you can do is keep trucking. This farm has been in my family for decades. I’m going to do all I can to keep it, no matter the setbacks.”
Amber and Edgar said their goodbyes and headed back to the car. Amber heard Joe chatting amiably with his chickens.
It wasn’t until Edgar was heading back down the dirt road toward the exit that Amber spoke. “There were four places that were hit the same night Joe’s oil was ruined. Some cars were vandalized, a mural was spray-painted, and some chickens were set loose. Seems like that’s spread out all over the town, doesn’t it? And it’s kind of a trek just to get out here. If it was just kids causing trouble, wouldn’t they go after places all relatively close to each other?”
“Maybe,” Edgar said. “But if it was a big group of them all working together, they could hit multiple places at once.”
“True,” Amber said. “Wouldn’t it have been easier to just let Joe’s chickens out too? Or torch his field? Would kids know enough about peppermint oil to know to pour rust oxide in to destroy it?”
“All right. I’ll bite,” Edgar said. “What’s your theory?”
“I don’t think kids did this. I think someone specifically targeted Joe. They wanted his product ruined. Maybe it was a personal vendetta, maybe it was to cripple him financially.”
“Something tied to Stone Gate Farms?” Edgar asked. “He said his problems started there.”
Nodding to herself, Amber pulled out her cell and called Bianca.
“Hi, Amber.” Bianca sounded exhausted. “Sorry I haven’t called you with the list of people from the party who signed statements yet. I was planning to today. My brain’s been a little fuzzy lately.”
“That’s okay,” Amber said. “Have you heard of Stone Gate Farms?”
“No? Why?”
Amber realized she hadn’t told Bianca about Joe Cooper, or the meeting she and Chief Brown had with Wilma Jameson. “Want to meet me and my cousin at Purrcolate this evening around six? Maybe we can swap information.”
Bianca was silent for a long beat. “Okay. See you then.”
When Amber hung up, Edgar’s jaw was tense. “You didn’t even ask me!”
“Sorry! But you’re really good at research. And you have all afternoon to rest up until you have to be there. Please? I could use your help. Plus, don’t you want to know who threw Simon under the bus?” Amber asked. When he didn’t reply, she added, “I’ll buy you two dozen scones.”
“Three.”
“Three!” Amber said, incredulous.
“I’ve had to people so much today,” he said. “Just be happy you can still pay me in food. This won’t last forever.”
“Fine,” Amber said.
“Did you choose Purrcolate because of Jack?” Edgar asked. “Have you and Lover Boy made up then?”
Amber flushed. “Sort of.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, smiling smugly to himself.
Then Amber got an idea that would get both Kim and Edgar back for meddling, however lovingly, in her messy love life.
She texted Kim with: Found more info. Meet me at Purrcolate tonight at 6?
Ooh! Can’t wait!
Bianca will be there, too.
Ew.
Grinning to he
rself, she dropped her phone in her purse.
“What’s so funny?” Edgar asked.
“Oh, nothing …”
Chapter 16
It was just before six when Amber arrived at Purrcolate. Kim pulled into the spot next to her a few seconds later and they walked in together. Amber hoped Edgar wouldn’t “forget” to show up.
There were quite a few cars in the lot, but when she stepped inside, the main dining area of the café was largely deserted. A petite young woman with curly black hair and black-rimmed glasses perched on her freckled nose was manning the counter. She smiled wide when Amber and Kim walked in.
“Hi there. Welcome to Purrrrrrcolate,” she said. “Are you here for the Dungeons & Dragons group?”
Which explained the full parking lot. A chorus of cheers and roars sounded from behind the closed conference room door.
“Dungeon raid,” the woman said.
Amber wondered idly if Edgar was into Dungeons & Dragons. She guessed he would like the game more than the in-person interaction part.
Just then, Jack pushed though the swinging door in the back. He was wiping his hands on a dish towel. “Sabrina, do you know if—Amber! Hey.”
The young woman, Sabrina, said, “Ohh, this is Amber.”
“Sabrina,” Jack grumbled.
Amber flushed. Kim hummed happily.
“Oh, is your massive crush on Amber somehow a secret?” Sabrina asked, elbow propped up on the counter. She grinned at Jack.
“Please go bake five thousand scones,” Jack said.
Sabrina laughed, then turned her attention to Amber. “I’m a horrible baker. Jack knows this. He just wants me to get lost because I’m very good at embarrassing him.”
“I like her!” Kim chirped.
Sabrina winked at her. “I’ll go scrub stuff down or something. Nice to finally meet you, Amber. You’re right, Jack: she is very pretty.”
“Sabrina!” Jack said, the tips of his ears pink now.
Chuckling, Sabrina pushed her way through the black door that led to the kitchen.
“Sorry,” Jack said, wincing. “Uhh … you ladies just dropping in for coffee or …?”
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